The Children on the Hill(69)

He shook his head. “No name. But she did say she was family.”

“Family?” A knot formed in my throat.

“She said she was looking for you, needed to talk to you. She knew you were here on the island camping, but she wasn’t sure of the campground.”

“And you told her I was here?”

He nodded. “She told me she was family. And she sounded… well, distressed. Like it was urgent that she reach you. Cell service out here is spotty, so a lot of times we get concerned family members wanting to check in.”

I poured myself a cup of coffee, hands trembling a little. I waited, staring at the black phone on the desk. It did not ring.

Steve made small talk. He asked me how I was liking the island so far, if I’d had a chance to get out on the water yet, reminded me that the campground had kayaks and canoes for rent. I just stared at the phone. At last, my coffee was gone, and I accepted that there would be no call back. I’d missed my chance. Steve offered to give me a ride back across the campground, but I told him the walk would do me good.

As I walked, my brain turned in desperate circles.

My sister had called, so now she knew where I was.

What next?

I needed more coffee. Then I’d sit and look through the monster book. I couldn’t bring myself to open it last night—I’d been too exhausted, and a little too freaked out—so had left it in my backpack with the creepy little doll, deciding I’d look at both with fresh eyes in the light of day. I’d tossed and turned, staring frightened at my backpack half the night, as if the doll might unzip the bag, find its way out, and carry the book over to me.



* * *



A FAMILIAR BLUE pickup was parked next to my van at the campsite.

Shit. Now was not the time for a visit from the constable.

Pete wasn’t in the truck or anywhere around the site.

And the door to the van was open.

Had I left it open in my haste to get to the call? I jogged the last few steps and climbed up into the van.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

He was standing in the back by the bed, holding my digital recorder. “Looking for you.” He smiled sheepishly, set the recorder back on the shelf.

“You just let yourself in?”

“The door was open, and you didn’t answer, so I came in to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I see that.”

He stepped forward, his body filling the space. I wasn’t used to having anyone but me in the van. Not ever. There wasn’t room for two people.

I backed out through the open door, clearing the way for him.

“It’s an impressive setup you’ve got there. Perfect for working on the road.”

I said nothing. Then: “Was there a reason you stopped by?” The words came out stonier than I’d meant. His smile faded.

“I talked to the state police this morning,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Lauren Schumacher is still missing,” he said.

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “They’re sending another detective here to town tomorrow morning to interview people. They want to look into this whole Rattling Jane angle.” He looked at me. “They’ll be wanting to talk to you, I’m sure.”

“Me?” I swallowed.

“I think they’d be interested to hear your… theories. Among other things.”

I forced a smile. “I’m happy to share what I’ve got, but I’m afraid it’s not much.”

He paused for a moment. “Tell me honestly, what do you think so far? Do you think there’s anything to all the Rattling Jane stories?”

“The jury’s still out,” I said.

“I don’t know, the idea that there could be any truth to them just seems… unlikely to me.” He looked at me, waiting for a response.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” I said.

“Isn’t that the truth.” He turned toward his truck.

We’d said our goodbyes and I was climbing into my van when he called my name again. I turned, watched as he took a card out of the front pocket of his shirt and left it on the picnic table. “My number,” he said. “In case you want to talk.”

I closed the door, leaned against it taking deep breaths, listening to him get into his truck and pull away.

Shit.

I put on the kettle, grabbed the jar of instant espresso and my cup. Then, waiting for the water to boil, I grabbed my backpack from where I’d dumped it last night on the floor beside the bed.

I unzipped it, looked inside.

First aid kit. Water bottle. Granola bars. Bug spray.

Panic rising, I turned the bag upside down, dumping everything out.

The monster book was gone.

As was the doll.

And my gun.





THE BOOK OF MONSTERS


By Violet Hildreth and Iris Whose Last Name We Don’t Know Illustrations by Eric Hildreth

1978

CHARMS AND SPELLS TO KEEP YOU SAFE FROM MONSTERS

Monsters cannot cross a circle of salt. Buy a big box of kosher salt. Make lines of it on all the doorways of your house. Make a circle around your bed. Also create a circle of salt anytime you attempt to do any magic, like a binding spell or a spell for seeing monsters.